


Something about Simon

by imnotherehonest



Series: Work in Progress [3]
Category: Rise (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotherehonest/pseuds/imnotherehonest
Summary: Jeremy leaves rehearsal angry and hurt after his confrontation with Simon.More whirls of teenage thoughts and feelings, this time focusing on Jeremy.





	Something about Simon

**Author's Note:**

> As always, apologies for accidental Britishisms and errors!

Jeremy feels all the anger burning off. His skin had been buzzing with it at school, but now it’s all but gone.

Simon knew, he damn-well knew how Jeremy felt. Jeremy had poured his heart out, not once but twice now. And Simon had stomped all over it both times. In the parking lot it had been more instinctive than intentional. Simon had lashed out without thought, like a cornered, wounded animal. He had backtracked, softened the blow.

But he hadn’t apologised.

And then Simon had doubled down, thrown everything back in Jeremy’s face. He and Annabelle were sleeping together. Not just seeing each other, not just dating. They were sleeping together. Simon had had a look on his face like he was proud of the idea. Like he had the trump card and he was playing it and he was enjoying it. And Jeremy had felt himself crumble.

He had been so convinced that he and Simon had ‘something’ that he had been willing to push past the idea that Annabelle was in the picture. Even right there in the green room, stood staring at Simon in disbelief, he had felt the temptation to try to write it off. He wanted to deny it, he wanted to push back and tell Simon that it should be him. Simon should be dating him, kissing him, sleeping with him! And that made him feel sick. He didn’t do that. He would not do that. Not to his friend, not even to his worst enemy. Frustration and jealousy and guilt tugged him in opposing directions, ripping and tearing at him. His voice had broken as he snapped back at Simon. _Just… Don’t touch me!_ He could feel the emotion bubbling up, strangling him. And Simon had had the damn gall to ask _why_. Fucking _why?!_ He knew _why_!

Jeremy had been prickling with dull fury through the whole rehearsal. Refusing to even look at Simon in their scene. Squashing down the memories of how this scene usually played out. Refusing to remember the gentle brush of Simon’s lips on his skin, the gentle flirtation, the want in gorgeous brown eyes. Instead he relished the pettiness of it, letting the irritation shove aside anything else, anything more painful. The scene had been terrible, and Jeremy felt dark pleasure in it. Screw Simon, screw the play, just screw it all!

But now, pulling up home, he felt his defences crack. His chest ached with hurt and frustration. Simon bloody Saunders. He tried to take a breath, pull it all together, but instead the last of his control disintegrated. He felt his empty stomach tighten like a vacuum. A sob forced it’s way out. Damn it all!

Jeremy had been happy enough before this play to let himself assume Simon was straight. He would have recognised the lead from every single play anyway, and they had a couple of classes together, but outside of theatre the guy mostly kept to himself. They hadn’t even much spoken. None of that had stopped Jeremy from abstractly noting that the guy was pretty damn cute. And smart. And really, really talented. But there had been no real indication that Simon wasn’t straight, and in Jeremy’s book that had rendered him entirely off-limits.

Then they had started this stupid play.

At first Jeremy hadn’t made anything of the other guy’s nerves. It had been normal, right? Still, Jeremy couldn’t help but be impressed by Simon. Despite all of the anxiety on his face in some of their scenes, he sang so beautifully every single time. The vulnerability had been humanising, and Jeremy couldn’t help but be pulled in by those dark eyes. Sat in that circle on the stage, going through lines for the first time, he had seen Simon’s hesitation at initiating contact and found himself charmed by the slightly lost look in the other guy’s eyes, found himself smiling as he gestured for Simon to follow through with the touch.

He really had tried not to read too much into the small returning smile, to ignore the sensation of Simon’s hand resting hot on his knee. But he couldn’t stop the warm feeling that lingered under his ribcage even after rehearsal was long over.

Blocking out the kiss scene had just made it worse. He had watched Simon circle the stage awkwardly and seen him flinch when Mr Mazzou had stopped the scene for a moment to give direction so Jeremy had expected Simon to pull away again. Instead Simon had taken deep breath and let his shoulders relax. Simon had turned in close, intimate. Where Simon’s eyes had been guarded, cold, empty, it was like a door had been blown open and Jeremy was caught utterly transfixed. That edge of fear had been there again, but there was something else too. Something deeper and darker. Something that had simultaneously tugged at Jeremy’s heart and stirred deep in his gut. The stage was gone. There was just Simon looking at him, Simon slowly leaning in, Simon’s lips slightly parted, like he really did want more. God, Jeremy had been gone.

Of course, the fragile moment had been interrupted. Jeremy had seen Simon’s eyes flash back to reality, door slammed back shut. He had felt a twinge of guilt when his own eyes had still darted back to pink lips before Simon all but leapt away.

At that point he had really, really tried to tell himself that Simon Saunders was just that good at acting. He had been the lead in the last 3 plays. He was just that talented. Anything more was just in his head. Jeremy had shoved back hard at the idea that there really could be something more. He had told himself to get a grip.

But despite all of that, at the back of his mind the idea had lingered. What if? What if that hadn’t just been an act? What if Simon felt something too?

He had found himself watching Simon through the rehearsals. Not creepily, he had reiterated over and over in his head. The other guy just caught his attention, drew him in. He found himself catching Simon’s eye across the group more frequently, smiling despite himself. And Simon smiled back. Simon Saunders smiling back across the rickety stage did things to Jeremy.

Somewhere along the way, the what ifs had taken over. What was the worst thing that could happen? He began to let himself be drawn in. He let himself look over and smile. He had approached Simon after class asking to study together at the weekend, tiny bubble of hope growing as Simon said yes.

He just hadn’t realised how badly he was gone until Annabelle announced The Date. That she could be talking about Simon didn’t even occur to him. The idea of Simon dating someone else hit him like a brick to the face. The image of Simon and Annabelle sat laughing, holding hands, kissing… He had felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.  And then he felt like a complete idiot.

The problem was that Jeremy couldn’t stop the warm tug of his gut when Simon spoke, the way his heart fluttered happily in his chest when the guy smiled back with open sincerity in normally guarded face. When Simon had been set to leave Stanton, Jeremy had felt like he had swallowed a boulder of ice. He had all but damn-well sworn undying love on that stupid goodbye tape.

He really couldn’t just let Simon catch a cab back from Robbie’s party, but it had taken the whole journey to summon the courage to say anything at all. It had come out jumbled, rambling. His face had been hot in the dark. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he had not been at all prepared for Simon to respond in agreement. To say that maybe, just maybe, he got lost in those scenes too. Judging by the expression on Simon’s face, he hadn’t expected to say anything either. He had been too thrown to say anything more, and Simon had disappeared into the dark. Jeremy had sat there in the car for minutes, replaying the conversation over and over and over. What the hell did Simon mean ‘ _me too’_? What the hell?

The whole thing was become so confused, so messy, but Jeremy just couldn’t bring himself to let it go. He liked Simon. He really, really liked Simon. And maybe he was being an idiot but he needed to know where he stood. So he had followed Simon to his car, persisted despite the monosyllabic responses, tried to keep it light and friendly and open. And proceeded to pour his bleeding heart out in the school parking lot.

When Simon had thrown back that Jeremy was being creepy it had really hurt. Really hurt. He had felt winded. It was worse than hearing about Simon and Annabelle, worse even than the thought that he might not see Simon again.

Simon had almost just left, almost just walked away. But then he stopped. Simon had turned back, eyes wild like an animal in a trap, terrified and fighting for its life. For just a moment, Simon’s guard was entirely down. Jeremy had felt a surge of utter desperation. Now or never.

Suddenly they had been so close. Simon was looking at him, emotions churning just under the surface. He looked so lost. Jeremy thought he looked beautiful. Simon’s eyes had flickered down to Jeremy’s mouth, and the world stopped. There was nothing but Simon and those eyes and those lips. They were so damn close he could almost feel the heat from the other guy’s body. Heart pounding, magnetic urge to lean in closer just too strong to resist. Jeremy felt his lips tingle as he brushed his mouth over the other guy’s. Suddenly Simon had been kissing back, open mouthed and hot and unbelievable.

Jeremy’s face flushes slightly, skin tingling at the memory. But Simon had lunged back into his car, leaving Jeremy completely alone in the car park. The loss had left him cold. Something hollow and empty settling in his chest.

The next morning Simon was still seeing Annabelle. Jeremy had seen them kiss in the hallway. Annabelle was his friend, Simon was her boyfriend. Jeremy could not go around kissing other people’s boyfriends. He could not go around wanting other people’s boyfriends.

“Fuck!” he muttered, the expletive echoing in the dark. He wanted to scream, to let it all out. All the fury and pain and shame and betrayal. Instead he scrunched himself back together - shoulders up by his ears, hands tight in fists, every muscle wound tight as it would go. He let out a breath and opened the car door.

Autopilot took him through the motions: Bag out of the boot, lock the car, one foot in front of the other. Open the door, close it quietly, step around the creaky floorboard in the hall. Eyes straight ahead, quiet, unseeing. Into his room.

He sat on the bed and contemplated ignoring the gnaw of his stomach. Would his dad be downstairs? Would it be worth the energy? He sighed heavily. It was late, he was tired. He let autopilot carry him through tasteless plain toast to bed. The oblivion of sleep was a relief.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day slipped away. It was a Saturday. He slept through the morning and shoved down a vague guilt as he ignored a text from Jolene about joining everyone at the diner for lunch. He didn’t want to face anyone right now. He unthinkingly swallowed down soup that his dad had heated up and shrugged off mild concern. He had stared mindlessly at a textbook. And then he had thrown it roughly to the floor when he realised he wasn’t even paying enough attention to know what subject it was even freaking well for.

At about half four he was ready to start pulling his own hair out. All he could see when he closed his eyes was fear in deep brown eyes as Simon pleaded ‘ _I can’t!’_. All he could think about was that sickening, smug look in Simon’s eyes when he had admitted to sleeping with Annabelle. Everything just ached. His chest ached, his head throbbed. He fought to hold down a wet lump in his throat. He was such an idiot.

A knock at the door cut through his misery.

“Jeremy!” A voice barked out, bright and high. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

An enormous green hiking rucksack filled the doorway and dripped mud onto the shabby carpet. His sister was grinning ear to ear, mousey blonde hair ruffled and damp. She barged straight through, not blinking an eye at the book crumpled on the floor or the pile of clothes strewn in the corner. She was right there filling his vision, beaming down at him before his misery-delayed brain could register. She tugged him to his feet in a soggy hug, coat still wet and cold as she squeezed tight.

“You’re back?” the words escaped stupidly. He hadn’t realised she was home that weekend. He had a dim recollection of her mentioning a trip to visit their mum. She shrugged and laughed, droplets of water flung into mid air with a sweep of her arm.

His sister always had a way of cheering up the beige house. She somehow always had a smile on her face, even when deadlines and exams left dark shadows under her eyes. She had left for college the year previously, escaping just in time to avoid the worst of their parents arguing and inevitable separation. He couldn’t hold it against her, but sometimes on his own in the dark, he can’t help but selfishly think it would have been easier if she had stayed.

“Tea?” she suggested, already on the move again, making Jeremy’s brain feel like a lagging computer game. He made a non-commital noise and followed, glad for an excuse to escape the pile of books evading his concentration.

She bounced through the kitchen, half-dancing through the motions, singing gently as Jeremy collapsed into a chair.

“Oooh!” she called over to him, half pirouetting on one socked foot. “Sophie told me the play is Spring Awakening this year!” Jeremy felt his chest tug, like his intestines were tied to lead and his lungs filled with helium, each moving in opposite directions. His mouth opened silently, and then closed again into an uncomfortable half-smile, half-grimace. His sister cocked her head, hopping over to drag the tea bags out of hot water. She slopped out milk, some into each mug and some onto the counter.

She somehow managed to get most of the tea to the table in the mugs and stopped to suck in several lungfuls of steam.

“So,” she said conspiratorially, “what’s wrong with you today, Jezzy?”

The childhood nickname flicked off her tongue. Normally only their mum still called him that. He wondered if Katie knew that the last time she had said it had been the day before he had come out to their parents that summer. He slowly let out a breath he had forgotten he was holding.

Despite the 4 year age gap they’d always been close. She had been the first person to know anything. When someone had hacked the straps off his rucksack with scissors in grade school, he had gone to Katie. When the older boys in middle school had spread rumours that their mum was sleeping with the maths teacher, Katie had been his point of call. When he had cried himself out and finally admitted to himself that he had a crush Joseph next door, Katie had been the only person he had spoken to for months until he had worked up the courage to start coming out his friends. She had always been there for him. 

She watched him quietly, eyes narrowed. He tried again, but it seemed his vocal cords had stopped working.

“Hmmm, I guess the only option is for me to play guess the disaster!” She pretended to frown severely and tugged at an imaginary beard in contemplation. She hummed again. “By Jove, I’ve got it! You’ve impregnated a cheerleader!” Jeremy mock glared at her, a scoff forcing it’s way out despite the strangled feeling in his throat. “No? Joined the clergy? Started a war? Run over a teacher?” He rolled his eyes and tried to maintain the mock glare, but the beginnings of a smile barged it’s way through. She grinned at him fiercely and he stuck out his tongue.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with another Joseph – senior girlfriend and all?” she raised her eyebrows, and Jeremy felt the wince cross his face. She had always been too bloody perceptive for her own good. Katie watched as he fidgeted.

“He’s not–” Jeremy mumbled. Simon wasn’t Joseph. Joseph had shown no interest at all. He had just been friendly to Jeremy and around too often. Around shirtless too often. Probably in some misguided attempt to catch Katie’s attention in retrospect, but he had helped Jeremy with his homework and invited them both to swim in his family’s pool that summer, and Jeremy had found himself just a little bit smitten with brown eyes and kind smiles and tanned abs.

Katie just scratched her nose pensively, waiting.

“We–” Jeremy tried again, not getting any further. He put his head in his hands and sighed. He’d gathered the courage to confront Simon bloody Saunders, he could talk to his own sister.

“He kissed me back!” Well, that got her attention. But she stayed quiet, waiting as he tried to assemble his scrambled thoughts. “He kissed me back, and he said he– Well, he implied he…” God it really was such a mess. He swore, scrubbing at his eyes, refusing to let them prickle with tears again.

“Who, Jeremy?” Katie said softly. He looked back up at her. There was no judgement there. He hesitated.

“Simon,” he let the word escape. “Simon Saunders.”  Simon bloody Saunders. He could feel the recognition, almost hear the concern before she could even open her mouth. He may have mentioned Simon before, in passing. Just passing admiration really. Just a tiny slip of a smile. She had teased him then, he remembered. He had laughed and told her that Simon was probably straight.

“He has a girlfriend,” he bit out. He could feel the anger and self-loathing sweeping up to the surface. Katie stayed quiet.

“We have to kiss in the stupid play, and he just, we just.” Words were failing him a little, but he didn’t give in so easily. “He looks at me like it’s real, Katie! Not like he’s acting, not like it’s nothing. And not just during rehearsal. He– I thought, I fucking thought there was something there!”  His vision was fuzzy, and he swiped furiously at the wetness in his eyes. Katie nudged his foot under the table in solidarity.

“And I knew he was dating Annabelle, I knew and I still just had to go and talk to him about it, I still had to know. And I didn’t mean to kiss him, but he kissed me back. He kissed me back, Katie!” Okay, now the tears were falling faster than he could swipe them away. Jeremy sniffed.

“And then I had to find out from Jolene and everyone that he’s sleeping with her!” He can taste the salt of his own tears, and he scrunches up his face behind his hands. He doesn’t want to look at his sister. He just feels so stupid and so angry. Angry with himself and angry with Simon, and angry with Annabelle even though none of this is her fault. “I’m such an idiot!”

“Hey now!” Katie’s voice is sharp, and he looks up through his fingers. “No one gets to call my little brother an idiot except me, got it?” She’s smiling slightly.

Something soft is tucked between his fingers. A tissue. He blinks stupidly at the white paper, and then back at his sister. For the first time in the last few days he feels slightly less alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed!


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